Dolly on the edge
by slendyneedshugstoo
Summary: I just have to say it now, I am SO sorry. I noticed Levy didn't have much of a past so i wrote a story. story inspired by Melanie Martinez's Dollhouse. Rated T for language, mention of drugs, alcohol, and domestic violence. Levy is too close to the edge. Will she end up being pushed over it? Again, SO SO sorry.


Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Fairy Tail or Stilu would be canon.

Chapter 1

Ten steps from the edge. I shake my mom again. "Momma, please wake up! Dad's with a slut and brother is doing drugs again." Mom rolls onto her side and i can just tell that she's hung over. I go downstairs and try to put out brother's pipe when he's not looking. He smacks me on my arm dismissively and goes back to smoking. I try to deal with Dad next. I slap the girl in his bed for being there, and him for hiring her or whatever he did. He is the reason mom is passed out on the couch drooling on a throw pillow, trying to drown her sorrows in alcohol.

Nine steps from the edge. Suddenly there is a knock on the door. "places!" I shout. This house is like a dollhouse. We are just desperately hoping nobody looks through the curtains. Mom gets up off the couch and pretends to do dishes, while dad shoves the girl into the closet, and sits down at the dining table with a newspaper. Brother hides his pipe and pulls out a calculus book. I adjust my too-small dress so it looks good enough to be presentable, then open the door.

Eight steps from the edge. The local pastor is here, so i hand him a twenty. He is out collecting money for the church. As soon as i close the door the house is back to the way it was. Brother relights his pipe, mom takes a swig of beer, and dad leaves for his bedroom. Mom follows him, obviously drunk off her ass, and starts yelling at him about his infidelity. Dad's face goes red with anger, and he slaps her across the face. "If you were a better wife i wouldn't be going to other women for love!"

Seven steps from the edge. This is the last straw for me. I grab brother's pipe from his hand and smash it on the ground. I throw mother's flask across the room and punch dad in the jaw. I storm back to my room and pull out my tweety bird backpack from second grade, and shove it full of all my favorite possessions. My old CD player and case of CDs, my ten books, and all my clothes.

Six steps from the edge. Suddenly the doorbell rings again and i wipe my eyes. _Plastic_, i think. _It's back to being plastic._ Our neighbor asks for sugar, and i give him a tub full. Once the door closes i retrieve my backpack, and get an idea. I pull the string of pearls right off mothers neck, and go into her bedroom. Dad is too preoccupied with the slut to notice me empty moms entire jewelry box into my bag. I spin open the safe and take all the money in it, and then as a second thought, take the slut's wallet from the nearly nonexistent shorts laying on the ground.

Five steps from the edge.I take brother's drug money as well, and the food money i hid in the freezer. I walk out the door, and begin to contemplate my time here. Abuse? Check. Secondhand exposure? check. Spiked drinks? check. Doped bottles? check. Instant ramen every night? check. Attic bedroom? check. Drug dealer? check. Happy memories? Nowhere to be found.

Four steps from the edge. I pull a box of matches out of my pocket, along with a photo. One single photo, that of the entire family, bruised and battered. Everyone is faking smiles, but through my white dress you can see that i am black and blue. A tear drips down my face as i think about what happened right before this photo was taken.

Three steps from the edge. I strike the match, and stare at the flames flickering. I realize what this single match could do. It could burn the awful memories of the past, and light up my new future. I reach out and touch it, but burn myself. In that moment i also realize it could just as easily destroy me as it could my past.

Two steps from the edge. I also realize that if it can destroy me, it can destroy those that caused my hardship and aching. Those that gave me bruises, and those that made me tell people at school i fell down the stairs. Those that had hurt me beyond repair, and left me on the cold ground for some slut. I think about this, and a thought crosses my mind.

Standing on the edge. What if i burn the past. Right here, right now. If i do this, i can walk away unafraid, and never have to flinch at a raised hand that was there for a high five. I will never have to be cautious of open bottles or unsealed drinks. I will never lock myself in the attic so that i can cry without brother offering me some of his latest drug in an attempt to cheer me up. I wont have to work two part time jobs every day of the week.

I step off the edge. As these thoughts cross my mind, i light up the photograph, and as it's about to burn my fingers I toss it at the house of horrors i once called home. The flames lick the walls, dancing in a reassuring pattern. I smile, and walk away. I hear screams, but pay them no mind. It's just the demons in my heart leaving for good. Know what? I'm going to join a guild. How about... Fairy tail?


End file.
